All Too Beautiful Flame
by xTheWinterQueenx
Summary: Life has never been easy for Prince Loki. As the below-expectations son of King Laufey, he is used to constant disappointment. So when his marriage to Prince Thor is announced, Loki believes his life is about to change- and for the better. But he is wrong, and when life becomes too much, he finds compassion and love in a very unexpected place. Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: We do not own Marvel or Thor. **

**Summary: Life has never been easy for Prince Loki. As the below-expectations son of King Laufey, he is used to constant dissapointment. So when the promise of a marriage to Prince Thor comes about, Loki believes his life is about to change- and for the better. But he is wrong, and when life becoms too much, he finds compassion and love in a very unexpected place. Love is not forever, and happiness is not eternal, but sometimes, it's worth the risk. Thunderfrost and Stoki. **

**Authors note: I am super excited to post this fic, which was co-written by the lovely xCallMeLogiex! The first chapter was written by her, and as is normal we'll be switching every other chapter. This chapter is basically just an intro, so stayed tuned for the rest. :) Enjoy! **

There, in the dim lighting of his chambers, he lies on his back, ebony hair splayed across the emerald silk sheets, pale fingers entwined as his hands remain clasped upon his stomach. His eyes are transfixed on the charmed painting along his high ceiling; it's his favourite painting in all of the castle, since he charmed it to match the current season. He counts the snowflakes, watching as they whirl, twirl and swirl amongst themselves. They're having a grand old time, whereas he's in a bit of a slump, for he has disappointed his father; yet again. For the past sixteen, nearly seventeen, years he has tried his best to please his father, the King of Lazeroth, but his plans have crashed and burned, and he hates himself for it.

Today, he revealed to his father, after so many years of hiding them, a few of his abilities. How he can levitate, transform into mist, and even asparate to different places within the castle, but his father simply bowed his head and mumbled softly, "Oh, the shame you have brought me."

Not only is sorcery frowned upon and considered to be slightly sinister, it's more of a maiden's skill; one not widely accepted unless it is used for the good of the people. But King Laufey feels that his only son Loki is much more of an embarrassment than a threat to the people. He shook his head once more and walked away, his eyes trained to the floor.

After that, the Prince chose to lock himself in his chambers, away from the cruel kingdom. Because as long as he's beneath the painting, the same one he painted a few years back, he feels as if he's anywhere but here.

The soft sound of air being inhaled and exhaled are the only things one could hear as his chest rises and falls.

For as long as he can remember, he's been able to do those things that most can't. A faint smile creeps into his soft features as he remembers the feel of absolutely nothing beneath his feet as he painted that landscape along his ceiling. He remembers that day well, the day after his sixth birthday. The cool feeling of paint dripping down his forearms was a gift of its own. It was something he found a small comfort in. The long careful strokes were soothing as he used his paintbrush, the colorful liquid leaking down the handle, some even splattering down to his carpet. If one were to look close enough, the marks are still there, a distant reminder of that oh so magical day. Now, not only is it a comfort, it's a gateway, the painting, to a new place. To get away.

Oh, how he smiles at the thought of being away. He feels his chest tighten as the snowflakes descend at a much slower pace, then finally they cease; just an inky colour takes place, and small diamonds of stars begin to appear. He's heard that some wish upon a star, but he finds it to be childish. And he's anything but childish, but forgive him for wanting something more as he closes his eyes and starts to mutter the first word of his wish. Only to be interrupted by a cry of a bird. Snapping his eyes open, he shakes his head at the sillyness of his actions.

'A wish. How absurd!' The ravenhaired Prince scoffs, opting to sit up, bringing his knees to his chest as he crosses his ankles. He then folds his arms across his knees, resting his chin along his arms, letting that cold look of complete and utter disappointment replay within his mind.

He pretends not to feel that all too familiar lump in his throat, the wet warmth pooling in his eyes as that burn begins to settle into his nose. A small sniffle is all that is heard before his walls come down, and he cries; much like any other average day.

And if he doesn't recognize the smallness of his voice as he whispers to his favoured walls, he doesn't wince at how pathetic he sounds. "I am nothing but a disappointment." And he's heard these words all too many times before. It doesn't hurt as much, but it's still there, the sting. He repeats it until he begins to believe it, it's a mantra of truth, or so that's what he wants himself to believe, if only to make himself feel numb. Salty tears continue to roll passed his high cheek bones, passing his pink thin lips. He takes his bottom lip and bites, successfully hiding a broken sob.

"Nothing but a shameful disappointment."

Lying back, he twists in bed until his face is buried within the softness of his pillow, wincing as he lets the sobs take over, causing his body to shake. The painting above does nothing now, because he remembers of a time when he once painted his father a portrait of the castle. But his father chose to burn it right before his eyes, telling him to mature into a man that he could _finally_ be proud of. Needless to say, Loki cried himself to sleep that night; and several after that.

If he lived to make someone, anyone, proud of him, he would not have lived for nothing more than a throne, but lived for something, other than his father's approval. And that would mean the world and a half to him. To find someone that appreciated his artistic side as well as his other sides; now, that would be a life to live.

Sighing into his pillow, he faces the ceiling once more. His face is wet with tears, but he makes no move to wipe them away. Instead, he finds himself thinking of paint, and how he should start another portrait; but then that look of strong disapproval is there, behind his eyelids as he blinks. The prince quickly decides against it. His long fingers have tangled themselves in his hair, tugging, tugging, tugging, because he needs to stay in this moment. If he were to slip off to a random memory that's simply floating around in his head, he would just start crying all over again, and he would hate to do it; again. He can see his father shaking his head, hear his angered words. The prince whines at his own confusion, fingers still entwined in his locks as he mutters words even he himself can't seem to register. But if he strains his ears, he thinks he hears the words: "Shame" and "Disappointment.

His head is starting to throb from the almost constant tugging, and that's a good thing because it can help him. The pain is a dreadful anchor to the here and now, a place he doesn't want to be but needs to be. It's all confusing. And quiet. He's physically drained, yet he doesn't know why. All day he's lay here, and the few days before then. He hasn't realized it until now.

Closing his eyes, he allows himself to relax, truly relax, and it's only when he does, that his simple spell of his soundproof room finally becomes vulnerable to what's happening behind those tall doors. There's an urgent knock; his eyebrows furrow in sudden wonder as he quickly stands and makes his way to the door. Opening it, he finds a guard, a new one; father must have hired him. Green eyes meet cerulean ones that widen, but only for a fraction of a second.

"Yes?" he barely whispers to the new gaurd.

"Prince Loki," how he says his name, it sends a slight chill through Loki as he watches the guard's lips move, "the King requests your presense in his chambers. I am here to escort you."

And that's all that's exchanged between the raven haired prince and blonde man, as they share an appealing moment of silence on their way to see the king.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or Thor**

**Authors Note: Hello everyone, Phantom Phoenix Queen here this time with chapter two :) I forgot to mention this in the previous chapter, but this story is AU. I'm sure that most of you have figured that out, but I'll say it just to clarify. Thank you all for the reviews, they fuel us and we love them! (And we are very happy to hear that you love the story!) **

Loki's past is shrouded in darkness and betrayal, and he knows it. The crown prince of Lazeroth bares many names- Silvertongue, Skywalker, Shadowdancer- and among them is the worst of all: Stolen Son of Odin.

The kingdom of Orabella is grand and gold, and everything Lazeroth is not. The king, Odin Allfather, is strong and respectable where Lauefey is cunning and feared. And Odin's son, Prince Thor, is as much a respresentation of Orabella as Loki is of Lazeroth.

Prince Thor is golden haired; he is strong, and caring, albeit a little daft, but caring nonetheless. Prince Loki is dark; he holds himself with grace and poise; he is perfectly kept, his ebony hair is never out of place, and his touch with politics is unrivaled. He is much like Lazeroth in this way, as the kingdom is known for it's cunning tactics and snake-like ambassadors.

But for all the talk of a golden city with glorious people and god-like leaders, Orbella has not always been peaceful. Loki knows this better than anyone, as he is the living reason for the infamous War; the great battle between Lazeroth and Orabella for none other than Prince Loki himself.

He does not remember very well, as he should not, since he was so young and young children tend to not remember much. But his father is never hesitant to remind him how the war started, and so he can tell the tale as if it had happened yesterday.

Although he does not believe it, Loki is very sought after. He is the son of King Laufey, the heir to the throne of an extremely powerful country that few can rival. When he comes of age, or when Laufey is dead, he will wear the crown of a country that owns the world.

Many yearn to be royal, Loki knows; his regrettable story begins with one such man. The birth of Loki- the son of Laufey, who descended from the stars is what they say, for he has no mother that he is aware of- brought joy and fear equally. In Lazeroth, the people celebrated for a week, harolding in the new baby prince. In Orabella, those in power metaphorically paced back in force with nerves. And so brought on Malekith, a poor man searching in vain for Orabellan knighthood in exchange for capturing the shadow prince.

According to Laufey, Malekith was a magic wielder; he snuck in, cloaked in invisibility, and stole the young Loki away, putting an illusion in his place. The magic held for thirteen days, as compliant and believable as if the crown prince himself was actually there. In the mean time, Malekith had brought the prince to his king and queen, Odin and Frigga.

Odin's immediate reaction had been to kill the Lazerothian noble, but Queen Frigga, a kind and caring woman, had been appalled by this. She fought her husband there, in public, to save the baby; enemy or not, she said, he was a mere child and had done nothing wrong. He deserved to live. The underlying message was clear enough, however; to kill the Lazerothian crown prince was a death wish for Orabella.

So Malekith was put to death, more of for the sake of saving Orabella than for the deed he had done, and Prince Loki came to live with the royal family whilst King Laufey was notified. It was here that Loki met Prince Thor, the slightly older and slightly rougher son of Odin and Frigga. He was kind and caring, just like his mother, and he fought tooth and nail to keep Loki at his side

Loki stayed for all of three weeks with the Odin family. Although Laufey had been notified much sooner, he had not been in any hurry to collect his son. When Loki had cried at this fact, Thor had been there, hand outstretched and hugs at the ready. He had comforted Loki, and at end of the day, they sat before Frigga as if they were both her children while she told them tale after tale. The three-year-old Loki had never felt so loved as he did that day.

On the first day of the fourth week Laufey came, and with his army. He twisted words, his upmost talent, and proclaimed that the royal family of Orabella had stolen his son.

And thus began the War; a twenty day battle with blood shed unlike either country had seen before. The only conclusion was that Lazeroth and Orabella would never again be allies, and that Loki would never again feel as loved as he had in those short weeks. It was then that Loki was given that horrible nickname, along with his first slap.

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><p>The only sound in the grand hallway was that of breathing and shoes hitting the ground. The blonde guard, a man of seventeen that wished to one day be Captain of the Guard, looks expectantly towards the ebony haired prince. For the past five minutes, his green eyes have been glued forward in an obvious state controlled by inner thoughts. He smiles slightly, the boy looks nervous, and it has always been his talent to set nervous people a ease. He reaches a hand out slightly, a reflex in which he'll playfully slap the prince's back and set him at ease, before he remembers that this is royalty, and he very may well lose his head for touching the boy like that. A moment of debate ensues, in which his mind battles between comforting his walking companion or staying quiet. He let's risk win out over carefulness in the end.<p>

"Do not look so nervous, Your Highness. His Majesty sounded pleased when he called for you, I highly doubt anything terrible will come from this meeting."

The guard puts his hand on Loki's shoulder in a caring gesture. It must work, because Loki can feel himself smiling back at the guard's sunny face and relaxing his shoulders from the tight, hunched position they are currently in to the rigid, haughty but confident setting his father requires.

He and his guard stop in front of the door as two sentries bow before hastily, but gracefully, opening the doors to King Laufey's throne room. Loki raises his chin, dons his look of calm indifference and squares his shoulders. He wishes the guard would stay with him, as a sort of moral support; but before he can say anything, the blonde is winking and stepping to the side and trumpets are blaring to signal the prince's entrance. And then it is only he and Laufey in the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: (This chapter was written by xCallMeLogiex) Sorry for the wait, writer's block can be pretty vicious at times. Since I wrote it in a half hour sometime early this morning it may not be the best.**

**Disclaimer: We do not own Marvel or Thor.**

He wishes the guard were to come back, stand beside him again, maybe even give him that reassuring touch of his. The announcement of the prince is heard, and he feels a little cold, sincerely wishing for the guard to be his shield, his warmth, and confidence.

A slight shiver runs along his spine as he steps into the room, his stomach is in knots as he takes another step, one foot in front of the other, until he's standing a foot away from his father. He bows, as is expected. His head follows, before he straightens.

"Father. You requested to see me."

A simple wave of the king's hand, and everyone is filing out of the room, and Loki wishes he was going with them. One by one they leave, and as they do, his nerves freeze over.

"Loki." his tone is strict, Loki nearly visibly tenses. "Let us walk while we talk." he takes a step towards the royal garden, though once he takes notice of the prince, who has yet to move, he pauses. "Loki, we shall walk and talk." It's a demand; demands are something that the ebony haired prince are extremely familiar with.

He isn't sure why he suggests it, but he does. "With all due respect, father, but may we stay here?" he then suddenly thinks, 'Near the blond guard.' Quickly, he rids himself of the thought, not wanting to wish for something that will certainly not come true.

The king simply agrees, "That would be best. We wouldn't want the rest of the kingdom to be startled by your reaction." he then tries to lift the corner of his mouth, a sort of smile, but it only reminds the prince of a sneer. "I believe that this would be best, this decision. For all of Lazeroth."

And Loki just knows that this decision will make his head throb, even more so. His hands go for his royal robes, quickly fists them. Once he earns a small scold from his father, he swiftly apologizes as he lets the cloth fall from his iron like grip. Bowing his head, he listens as his father sighs. He doesn't need to look up to see that the king is pinching the bridge of his nose.

He isn't sure why, but he always feels as if he isn't a prince, or even a person, whilst in the presence of his father. He feels like a burden, a heavy burden, yet at the same time, an obedient one. Because whatever his father says, he does. He tells him to sit up straight, he does. He tells him to walk with his head held high, done. Loki is a walking, heavy, burden of a drone. He was taught to respect and obey his father's commands; the very mention of his father's name and he would visibly straighten; he'll be as stiff as a board. It's always been this way, so when he finally hears the king voice his decision, he gulps. The prince's stomach drops, he tries to remember how to breathe.

"What?" is all he can muster up into an audioable squeak. "F-father?"

"I wouldn't be asking you to consider if there were other options."

The ravenhaired prince can feel his blood begin to boil. There was never a time when the king asked him to do something. It was always a cold, hard, demand. And he's close to pointing it out, though now is not the time to pick a fight.

His head is swimming, questions begin to attack his brain. "When did you decide this?" It's breathless, but the king manages to hear it.

"I've been planning it for quite some time, now." when Loki raises his eyebrows in question, the king waves his hand, dismissing the unasked question, "Specific dates do not matter-"

"They do, father." the king narrows his eyes at the boy, but Loki lightly pleads, "Please, they do matter."

There's that exasperated sigh, Loki's shoulder slightly slump, because he feels like a major bother. As if he annoys most without knowing how to stop or prevent it from happening.

"This past winter."

Winter, having always been Loki's favoured season, makes him slightly grin. Though, he furrows his eyebrows, wondering why his king has been thinking about this for the past several months. It seems strange, yet expected. Much like deja vu. Realization dawns on the prince, his eyes widen.

His voice just barely shakes with anger, and he doesn't care if his father scolds him again, he fists his robes as he hisses, "You don't mean you've been planning to simply give me away to some stranger, just to make peace between our kingdoms, since the passing of my birthday?"

"I did what had to be done! What have you done? Besides playing childish tricks on our servants and healers!"

If the blond guard were in the room, Loki wouldn't hesitate to hide behind him, because his father can be downright scary once he raises his voice. Loki flinches, but doesn't back down just yet, instead, a humourless chuckle seeps passed his pink lips. "As opposed to being cowardly as you are, you're now offering your only son as a peace offering." Whatever confidence he had is drained out of him as his father, his powerful king, steps closer to him.

"Do not offend me in my own house, Loki." His eyes are hard, as cold as ice, he hisses, "I raised you to think about the good of your people, to be selfless. You will be married, and that is final."

"I will not be married to a man I have yet to meet!" he reasons.

There's a tired look that overtakes the anger, the exhaustion. "Loki, please." he draws in a breath, "Please, do this, marry Thor Odinson, for the sake of Lazeroth." his father places a hand upon his shoulder, lightly squeezing it. It's meant to be comforting, but it hurts and causes more pain than reassurance. But that pain is dulled as he replays his father's words, the name.

That very name causes something in Loki to swell: confusion, excitement, worry. Pleasant butterflies take flight within his stomach.

"Th-Thor?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: We do not own Marvel or Thor**

**Authors Note: This next chapter was written by me, Phoenix Queen :) once again, thank you for all the support and sorry for the wait! Just a little note, for this chapter:**

**'...' Is dialogue in the past, or dialouge being remembered.**

**"..." As always, is normal dialogue.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>As he walked back to his room, Loki was too lost in his thoughts to bother noticing the blonde guard. The strangely comforting man had been pushed from his mind in favor of another handsome blonde.<p>

Thor. Prince Thor Odinson, the golden boy of Orabella. Just the name made his heart flutter, and Loki wrinkled his nose in disgust at the feeling he associated all too closely with the lovesick girls that dotted the palace. He was a prince after all, and a prince of Lazeroth to boot- he shouldn't be letting his feelings get to him, especially when they pertained to an arranged marriage. Although the arrangement did involve Thor. Loki shook his head in annoyance at himself, ridding his mind of the school-girl thoughts that plagued him. A deep laugh followed his head back to its noble position, and it was only then that Loki realized the guard beside him had been watching him.

"Your Highness, you're being quite expressive," the guard let a little smile slip as he titled his head at the prince. "Something good has happened, yes?"

The prince quickly composed himself, obviously embarrassed, and nodded. The guard laughed slightly at the red blush that scattered across Loki's cheeks.

"I...I am going to be meeting a man I haven't seen in years," Loki paused for a minute "A good friend. And if all goes as I believe it shall, I will be moving in permanently with him. As a peace treaty of sorts." He trailed off at the last sentence and looked down in shame. The way he had worded it made him seem like a pawn, like a weak piece in Laufey's game. It embarrassed him even more, because, for some reason, the guards opinion of him mattered more than it should have. He was Prince Loki, and he had been raised to not care what others thought. But this strange guard had slipped under his armor and given him the warm hug of friendship that Loki had never felt before, and it made him want to sit down and spill his insecurities and secrets in a way that had never crossed his mind and had never felt needed.  
>He cringed internally and glanced down at his hands, twisting them in front of him. He had just raised his head to re-explain himself at the same time the guard smiled at him and opened his mouth.<p>

"Well, Orabella, that's a long ways away. Even if you do know one man, and he must be rather important just based off your standings, surely you'll need a friend from home. Someone familiar in a strange place would do you some good, my prince." His voice intoned that he should be the one to join Loki.

"Father did say guards were to accompany me. As I'm sure you know Orabella and Lazeroth have not always had the best of standings," he gulped awkwardly here and then hurried on, not wanting to dwell on his last statement, "so the king has instructed that I be protected, at least for the first few months, in case something goes amiss." He smiled sheepishly at the guard.

"Do you get to pick those who shall be accompanying you, your Highness?"

Loki balked. If he was honest with himself, he had never considered picking his companions. He wasn't particularly fond of any of the guards, save the one he was currently conversing with, and he didn't have any friends to speak of. In theory, that left him rather alone; but his high status insured that people would crawl from wherever they could to protect him in return for a favorable image by Laufey. He was lonely surrounded by people he could never call friends.

"Well, I suppose so. But there's no one I'm particularly close too," he felt awkward mentioning the connection he already felt to the blonde, "I've never had many friends and the guards are mostly one and the same to me."

He risked a shy glance at the man beside him, who looked curiously lost in thought. For the first time in almost forever Loki didn't know what to say. He felt he had hurt the guard in some way, and with his mind in a desperate mode to reconcile he began to stutter out a quiet, unintelligible string of words. That seemed to snap the man out of his thoughts and he smiled sideways at Loki.

"Everyone needs friends, Prince Loki. And if friends is a dilemma for you, I would be honored to escort you to Orabella. You don't deserve to be alone, and I think we both know it'd be nice getting to know each other. If you would like, I will talk to Laufey and ask him if I may accompany you." A sincere smile graced his face, accompanying a small, shy smile from Loki. "You've spent long enough by yourself my prince, let me do this for you."

Loki nodded hestitantly. "Yes", he said, "I would... appreciate that."

They both watched the other for a few moments before the sound of wooden doors sliding open disturbed them. Two guards stoically held the entrance to Loki's chambers open. As he made to enter the blonde guard laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and spun Loki around. He bowed slightly to the black-haired boy and spoke confidently.

"And please, call me Steve."

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><p>Loki had never known his bed could feel so hard. He sat rigidly on the large mattress as all around him servants scurried about gathering his things. His eyes darted around, never knowing where exactly to settle due to the sheer amount of commotion. A kindly old woman had told him upon her entrance to make himself comfortable, that they would work around him; but that was easier said than done, for when all the people had poured into the room with polite murmurs and bows Loki glued himself to the end of his bed in an awkward out-of-place way. His arm rested loosely yet protectively around a leather bag filled with his throwing daggers and a few assorted paint supplied he especially treasured. Those he had gathered himself, and for good reason, he decided, after a particularly nerve wracking episode with three servants and his favorite mirror. His eyes critically scanned the room for anyone who looked ready to tackle the large project that was removing his favorite painting; he would take that off the wall himself, preferably with magic and preferably without anyone around. But for now he allowed himself to sink into the hustle and bustle that was currently his room. His mind drifted backwards as the quiet, sweet voices around him lulled him into a half-awake state. He was thinking about Laufey, and how with the brightest smile Loki'd ever seen his father had slung his arm around his son's shoulders and told him of his future.<p>

'You'll live a glorious life as a glorious king, Loki. You and Thor will be unstoppable.'  
>Then he'd been plucked away by five or so guards, one of them being the blonde, and had been told that servants would be in his room in about an hour to ready his things for the move to Orabella.<p>

If Loki said he wasn't nervous, he'd be lying. There was a gnawing worry that Thor would no longer live up to the expectations and memories Loki possessed. Or that he had found another and fallen in love, so that Loki would be no more than a political pawn left to wither alone. He couldn't help the flutter of panic that bubbled up into his stomach at the thought. Of all the people he had ever met, Thor was the one true friend he had made. Upon his leave from Orabella back to his home those many years ago, Thor had promised that they would always remain friends, and that one day they would live side by side, playing and enjoying life. Loki blushed at the thought of that; would Thor think of him as childish for remembering that? Would he cast him aside because they had not seen eachother in so long? Would Thor forget him, like so many others had?

Loki flinched at that thought and successfully pulled himself from his mind. He smiled sheepishly at the woman who had given him a look of motherly concern and turned away ever so slightly, cheeks burning. He let himself wonder once more through his memories, and this time called upon one of his favorite moments with Thor.

Thor had always been strong as a child, and coupled with the fact that he was the son of Orabella's greatest warrior meant he was rapidly expanding his knowledge of combat. He practiced with companions older than he and almost always beat them. Loki could fondly remember being tucked in beside Thor, snuggled into the boys side most often, as the prince recalled his accomplishments of the day. Loki himself was no master at fighting and preferred to read and practice diplomatic skills. And because of this, he was left out of Thor's little group by definition- for little children have no really conception of social status and politics, only for who and what their companions consist of.

Thus began one fine, sunny morning in Orabella. Frigga, the queen, had left Thor and Loki in her gardens to attend to her duties. Thor's combat practice was not due to start for a few more hours, and so the two enjoyed their time running through the flowers and trees playing make believe games. Loki had been hiding when Thor's friends- girl and three older, rougher boys- had approached Thor and, with high childish voices, encouraged him to come with them to practice before class began. Thor was obviously torn, and with a panicked heart Loki poked out from behind the tree to see what the answer would be. He was worried for himself; without Thor he would be completely alone in a strange land, and if he accompanied them he would surely indure their jabs at his lack of skills.

Loki had been pleased to see that Thor's first reaction was to glance around in nervous decision. He could tell his companion was thinking the same thing he was, and was not even surprised to find him voicing his concern. But just as fast Sif, the girl, retorted that Loki could not fight and therefore had no place in the arena. It was no secret that Loki had little to no warrior abilities- as the future king of Lazeroth he had been taught from early on that he would control a massive army, and consequently almost never have to fight. He also possessed a great magic, which none beside himself and a secret sorceress knew about. On his third day in Orabella he had been offered a chance to spar with Thor, but with Frigga's help had politely declined. He was in no mind to make a fool of himself in front of such important people, and he knew he could never reveal his magic here; if sorcery was looked down upon in Lazeroth, it was certainly even less appreciated in the land of brutish warriors.  
>So when Sif with her barbed remarks insulted the Lazerothian prince, Thor came immediately to his defense.<p>

'Had you not been a lady, Sif, I would surely punish you severely.' Loki had smiled to himself at this because these were officially the most formal words Thor had spoken in front of him. 'Do not insult my friend, no matter who he is or what skills he possesses.' He had thrown a reassuring glance at Loki at this point and continued with his head held high. 'So take yourself and your friends and spar with yourselves. And mind your tongue, Sif. Next time I may not be so forgiving.'

Thor had stood with his arms crossed and face defiant until his friends had slunk out of sight. Then he had run to Loki, taken his arm and pulled the boy into his side.  
>'Let's play, Loki.' Though the words would seem meaningless, Loki knew from his short period of time with the prince that he was saying 'I won't let them take me away' the only way he knew.<p>

A soft hand laid itself on top of Loki's, successfully snapping him out of his memories. The same elderly lady stood beside him with a kind expression.

"My prince, I would just like to wish you well on your travels. May you be safe and happy."

She punctuated her words with a smile and bowed before turning towards the door. Loki thanked her and took the opportunity to look around. The painting had been left high upon his wall, thank the gods. It seemed the servants either could not or would not reach the art. Loki took a look around his room to take in the sheer emptiness. He curiously spoke outloud to test out the echo of the rather empty massive chamber. The ornate cathedral ceiling above him reverberated the sound back at him and he smiled. No matter the apprehensions he had, he was more ecstatic about reuniting with Thor than anything else.

He stood and brushed off his clothes before moving to stand before the painting. With hands on his hips, he stared up at the frame for a moment in appreciation. When the moment passed he raised his hand and charmed the painting down from the wall. It glowed a pretty green color until it touched down gently on the bed. Just as the prince was about to pick it up and transport it somewhere safer, a knock sounded on his door. He scurried -gracefully- to grant the person entrance, and when he did he was faced with the deep bow and smile of the blonde guard, Steve.

"Your Highness, upon the demands of the grand King Laufey, I shall have the honor and pleasure of escorting you to your new home in Orabella." He smiled widely and lowered his voice a notch. "I am in all sincerity pleased to get the opportunity to know you better, Prince Loki. On the express orders of the king, I shall be the one to take residence with you, if only for a while. Think of me as your personal assistant." He punctuated his sentence with an even larger smile and held out his hand welcomingly to Loki.

"So, my prince, if you are all ready, let us go to Orabella."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: we do not own or are associated in any way with Marvel. **

**Authors Note: this chapter was once again written by myself. Next chapter will continue as normal (because we all know how much we love xCallMeLogiex's writing) :) as always, thank you for the continued support of this story, we appreciate it so much! **

Orabella was way more than Steve had expected.

The royal city practically dripped gold. Every visible surface was coated in the precious metal; so much so that Steve could easily go out on a limb and assume there was no shortage of the stuff here. A massive pipe-organ-like building sat like the crown jewel in the middle of the city, and he could easily tell it was the palace. Smaller abodes- not quite as luxurious but still nothing to complain about- were scattered about around the base of the palace, adding to the overwhelming glow of the city. He had to admit, however, that his favorite trait of the city upon first glance had been the massive gate and bridge leading up to the palace. Celestial gold doors rocketed sky-high, complete with intricate designs and a just as fancy frame. They even had their own gatekeeper who stood stoically in front of the doors with a rather impressive sword planted in front of his feet. The bridge was a shimmering rainbow construction that practically buzzed with some kind of ancient energy. It was obvious even from the outside that this was one of Orabella's proudest features, which topped off what was a lavish city to begin with. The bridge continued all the way to the palace doors- punctuated occasionally by golden supports on the edges- and it was there, about halfway to the entrance, that Steve finally noticed the expression on Loki's face.

It was stuck somewhere between daydreaming and scream-and-jump-around excited. He kept up the emotionless appearance expected of him only when he suspected someone was watching and then dropped it immediately to instead gaze happily at the surroundings. It was a look that said he felt at home, and something inside Steve was unsettled at that. It was an uncomfortable, strange sort of feeling, and not knowing what else to do, Steve shook himself slightly to try and remove it.

An unmistakably Loki giggle sounded through Steve's thoughts, and he spun his head around to meet the prince's voice. His face was split in a wide smile and he gazed excitedly at Steve.

"Aren't you most excited, Steve? I for one cannot wait! My chance to leave Lazeroth and by luck it is to Orabella. I've dreamed so long of returning here."

Steve pulled from his mind the history lesson he'd been given on Loki and the War. He couldn't help the slight frown that graced his lips when he thought of Loki being rejoined with Thor; the strange feeling he had felt before returned with a pang for a moment and he quickly refocused his mind to another subject.

"My Prince, what exactly is the goal of this trip? Permanent residence here in Asgard, yes? But only for visiting a friend?"

Loki turned towards him with a rather shy expression. He bent into himself slightly before gazing up at Steve between eyelashes and sighing happily.

"Well, yes. Although it is not quite a normal visit. You see, I am marrying Prince Thor."

* * *

><p>Steve had thought the outside was grand, but that was nothing compared to the inner palace.<p>

Floor to ceiling glittered a blinding gold. The pillars, the floor tiles, the sconces, even the guard uniforms, gave off a luxurious gleam. The floor of the throne room- which was their current location- was broken up by ancient looking patterns, most likely Viking in origin. They swirled leasurely up to the foot of a rather impressive throne.

The throne itself extended about three fourths the width of the room. It was tucked securely onto the back wall, bolstered by rows of golden steps. It resembled a pair of massive wings stretched to their full extent; at least, a pair of wings that nestled a golden throne and well-respected king. Rounded, gold framed windows let a small amount of light in- just enough so that the gold glittered, but not obnoxiously.

Gold-caped guards flanked their entrance. A total of four surronded their small party, and Steve assumed they were there more for formalities than protection. After all, there wasn't much to fear from the timid prince of Lazeroth and his meager group. Two of Loki's own guards marched side-by-side behind him, but Steve had been called up to walk beside the prince. He chattered away incessantly in hushed tones (for, as Steve was coming to find out, the palace was silent). His thoughts flitted between Thor, and the wedding, and the impending 'what if he's changed and no longer likes me?' nonsense. Steve found himself not caring that his ear was being talked off. He even smiled a little and nodding at the right places.

When they reached the throne room, two guards threw open the golden doors with practiced precision. They bowed and Loki nodded, bidding them a duel hello and permission to rise. Odin, Allfather, and Guardian of Orabella, gazed impassively at them as they entered. Six guards stood impeccably straight down each side of the stairs, three for each side in a symmetrical fashion.

"Fairest greetings, my dear Prince Loki."

A feminine voice sounded from somewhere near the throne, and a blonde haired women stepped forward; a gentle smile adorned her face as she descended the steps gracefully.

"Oh what a happy day it is to see my lovely son Thor wed to such a charming young man. And how have you been, my sweet Loki? You positively glow!" She embraced Loki as Odin rumbled a "now is not the time for small talk, Frigga."

'So,' Steve though, 'this woman is Frigga, Queen of Asgard.' He bowed low as she approached, as did the rest of the party, leaving Loki to stand and hug her with familiar ease. They chattered quietly for a moment before Odin rapped his scepter on the floor in a clear demand for silence.

"Prince Loki, heir to the throne of Lazeroth. It is a fine day indeed that I once again encounter you in my throne room; and to think, you shall be wed to my son, and you're great friend, Thor. How fate has played a favorable hand." Loki nodded, blushing and radiant at the mentione of Thor.

"Yes, Allfather, my warmest greetings. I journey from Lazeroth with a light heart at the thought of my impending wedding. To think, the man I thought I would never see again to be my husband. I could not be happier." Something in Steve shuddered- in a good way- at the smile that graced Loki's face.

Frigga smiled, "yes, that I can see. I find it only most acceptable that you reacquaint yourself with your future husband. Thor?" She waves gracefully to a guard, who bowed and opened the doors. Loki turned, hands clasped in front of him and wearing a blinding smile as Thor, Prince of Asgard and Loki's betrothed, entered the room.


End file.
